


The Waves He Makes

by Nefairyus



Category: Free Willy Series
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefairyus/pseuds/Nefairyus
Summary: Lottie Greenwood fears many things: her husband Jesse, the dark secret he carries, and the heinous consequences that ripple through time...(Black Comedy)





	The Waves He Makes

 

 

The sharp whistle of the kettle pierced the silence of the spring evening. A gentle breeze drifting into the kitchen window carried the scents of the lightly falling rain and the earliest flowers of the season. Lottie shuffled into the kitchen and unplugged the kettle. She opened the cupboard over the stove and considered her variety of teas. Mint, this time.

She poured hot water into a pale blue mug. As the tea steeped, she looked out the window onto Conner Street. Though winter was over, most of the trees were still bare. Lottie noticed a few that were budding and silently cheered them on. She had spent a couple minutes in a pleasant daze when she saw a group of four young boys– two of them were brothers, she thought– appear on the street carrying nets for road hockey. The kids had fully shifted to their outdoor voices, and though this brought an end to the quaint stillness, Lottie felt it complemented springtime perfectly. She smiled gently.

It was then that she noticed how low the sun was in the sky. She had lost track of time. She turned around to look at the clock on the microwave. 6:54pm.

“Oh, I'd better change!” she said aloud.

Abandoning her tea, Lottie rushed to the bedroom. She slid open the closet door a little too eagerly and heard it slam into the frame. She giggled. Stashed away at the end of the rack was a hanger bearing a garment bag. Lottie pulled it free and whisked it out of the closet.

Finally flicking on the lights, Lottie crossed the small room to the bed and carefully laid out the garment bag. She gingerly unzipped the bag and held up the hanger. A lingerie top, deep red with a bodice front, fringed with black lace. It was racy and extravagant. Cabaret chic. She loved it.

Less exciting were the matching bottoms. Though similarly lacy, Lottie found them unconvincingly risqué because of their size. It was a necessary evil, but the amount of material involved sent them dangerously close to diaper territory.

“You work with what you've got,” she thought as she strapped on the basque top. It dug a little into her shoulders. She changed into the bottoms and rehearsed the pose she had struck upon first trying on the red number at the store. Fabulous.

Sinful in scarlet, she returned to find her tea still hot and appropriately steeped. The microwave read 7:02. Any minute now. She sat delicately on the edge of the brown armchair in the living room, careful not to spill on her new clothes or her bare legs.

Five minutes later, headlights swept across the back wall of the living room. Lottie sprang from her seat and hurried to the front hallway, carefully positioning herself under the light fixture there. She struck her pose and held it, then flicked her hair backwards, sending strands of her black bob flying wildly.

The knob turned. Jesse opened the door and put his keys back in his pocket, looking downwards. He had taken two steps into the house before he saw her. He looked her up and down, studying her for a moment.

“The fuck is that?”

Icy needles down her spine.

“It's...I-I thought I would do something different!” she stammered.

“Oh you did, did you? We need something different, because our lives are _so_ shitty.” Jesse spat.

Lottie knew better than to argue. The door was still open.

“Something different?!” he ranted, “Something fuckin' different. You know what, Lottie? I don't like different. If I did, don't you think I'd trade up from your fat, stupid ass?”

Lottie forced her lips together. The sobs came anyway. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, now the baby is crying. Poor little Lottie, her life is so tough! All Jesse does is work his ass off day in, day out. That's easy! Don't worry about what _he_ wants!” Jesse gestured dramatically.

“I did this for you!” Lottie shouted, immediately regretting it.

“Oh really? This was for me. You bought some stupid frilly girly thing for _me._ Bullshit. You know what I like, Lottie. Or did you forget? Let me show you.”

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled, hard, toward the bedroom. Lottie screamed and, worse, resisted. Jesse planted a right hook into her face. He didn't wait for her reaction before he threw a second punch. Bawling loudly, Lottie reluctantly followed him to the bedroom.

He hurled her against the bed and she crashed to her knees beside it. He threw open the closet door and ripped hanger after hanger to the ground. Lottie watched. Finally, he removed a hanger and held it high. It was a dress: black with asymmetric whorls of white.

“Put it on.” Jesse threw it on the bed.

Lottie stared at him, sobbing. Jesse's eyes widened madly. He drew back his fist. Lottie struggled to her feet and began changing into the dress.

Jesse closed the bedroom door and walked over to their nightstand. On it sat a small stereo. He tapped open the CD door on top and saw that his white noise disc was still in the player. He pushed it shut again and set it to track 3. Whale songs. He pressed play.

Lottie's sobs were lost in the haunting song of the sea creatures. There was no use resisting, she thought. She sat on the edge of the bed, hunched unglamourously, clad in the black and white dress. Jesse looked at her, his expression manic. He began to breathe hard, fast, loudly. His faded jeans tented outward. He unbuckled his belt and threw it to the floor.

The front door of the house was still open. Did the neighbours never hear?

And in the morning, Lottie was alone. No trace of Jesse, just cold mint tea.

***

 

Jesse sat behind the wheel of his pickup, motionless, in the parking lot at the steel mill. He had punched out nearly half an hour before, but couldn't decide where to go next. He had to see her, that much he knew: the woman who was his only escape. He noticed a split in the skin on the back of his right hand, by the knuckles. He sighed and turned the ignition key.

Absently, Jesse drove to the new mall on the edge of the city, the one that still smelled like paint. The vibe there was a bit trendy for his taste. He carefully packed his modest mullet into his trucker hat before stepping inside. He knew where to find the two stores he would be visiting, and he was grateful for this as he made a beeline for the chocolate shop beneath the dead eyes of androgynous banner models.

Jesse was second in line at Boudreau Chocolatier before he noticed the “sugar-free” sticker. That wouldn't do.

“Ya big dummy,” he chuckled as he stepped out of the line. With the right chocolates in hand, he rejoined the long queue. No problem. She's worth the wait.

The second stop was a clothing store whose name he hadn't figured out yet. It was marked with a logo that you were just supposed to recognize. Jesse browsed the racks for several minutes, growing increasingly uncomfortable. A tall, slender woman– an employee of the store– hovered nearby. He had told her he was just going to browse, though he did have an idea of what he was looking for. He found it just in time; Jesse plucked the article off the rack just as the employee was approaching, no doubt with unwelcome advice.

“Oh, that's a bold choice,” she said.

“Here we go,” Jesse thought, but he only shrugged silently.

“It _is_ making a comeback. If she's confident in it, she could be a pioneer.”

“Yeah she likes stuff like that,” he sputtered as he hurried to the cash register.

“Are you sure that's her size?”

“Yes.” He knew it well. He loved it about her.

The store employee abandoned the small talk. With his shopping all finished, Jesse rushed back to his truck, cracking little smiles on the way. Butterflies.

Jesse pulled up to her house. Lights on, no cars in the driveway. Perfect.

He knocked on the door. Choosing sweet over suave, he held out the chocolates and the dress at arm's length and put on the best puppy dog face he could muster. He heard the click of the deadbolt.

Lottie opened the door.

“Babe, I'm so sorry. You know you mean the world to me,” Jesse said coolly.

Lottie stared. Her eyes were puffy, the left one slightly bruised.

“Please, Lottie, don't be that way. You know I'm a good guy. Look, I got you Boudreau.”

“Oh,” Lottie said. She slowly took the box of chocolates and held it in both hands.

“I'm going to come in, okay?”

Lottie nodded and stepped back from the door. Jesse entered, closing it behind him.

“And how about this, huh? The lady at the store said it was really fashionable.” He held up the dress.

Lottie's eyes were locked on his.

“What's wrong, baby?” he asked.

“I want you to start seeing Sean again.” Lottie said, her voice quavering.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Okay, okay! I'll call in the morning and make an appointment. But let's not worry about that now. How about you try on your new dress and we'll go out for dinner? Somewhere nice.”

Lottie frowned. After a moment, she gently took the dress from Jesse's hand and disappeared into the bedroom. She emerged wearing Jesse's gift and a pair of oversized sunglasses with baby blue rims.

“So how do you like it?” Jesse asked, embracing her.

“It's a little big.”

“Well you'll just have to grow into it, baby,” He kissed her neck.

“Are we going now?”

“You're ready? Good! Let's go!” Jesse opened the door, beaming, and held it for Lottie.

 

The hostess laughed gently as they entered Lottie's favourite Italian chain restaurant.

“Ma'am, if the lights are too bright, we could dim them for you.”

“Oh, no, it's fine,” Lottie replied. “These are prescription. I lost my glasses.” She forced a wan smile.

“She'd lose her _head_ if it wasn't screwed on,” Jesse joked, looking into Lottie's eyes, or where he thought they would be.

As the hostess led them to their table, Jesse placed his arm around Lottie's shoulders, covering the straps of her zebra print dress.

***

 

Jesse fidgeted in the leather armchair in Sean's office. He flicked his eyes around the room, not eager to let them meet Sean's. The potted plant by the window looked exactly the same as it had when he last saw it nearly two years before. He always thought it was fake.

“I'm glad you've come in to see me again, if a little surprised,” Sean said, sitting back in a second armchair opposite Jesse's. “What inspired you to come back?”

“I- I just thought it would be good for me to give it another go.”

“Is that right?” Sean asked flatly.

“Lottie. Lottie thought it would be good,” Jesse replied, his eyes still evasive.

“Either way, we should pick up where we left off. I remember a lot of your story, actually, and I took a look at my old notes to fill in some of the blanks. We were talking about your childhood.”

“The street days,” Jesse interjected, almost wistfully.

“Right. You told me you got busted for doing graffiti and got community service.”

“Yeah.”

“You never told me what the community service was. Didn't see you again after you mentioned it.” Sean said, paging through his notes.

“It was...it was a big deal.” Jesse said.

“Was it?”

“They made me clean up the graffiti at the park.”

“At the theme park you vandalized?” Sean asked.

“Yeah. Northwest Adventure Park.”

“That doesn't sound like a big deal in itself. It's only fair, right? Did something happen?” Sean scribbled in the margin to test his pen.

“Well,” Jesse started, “I just never had to own a mistake like that before. Make it right. I always just ran whenever I got in trouble. There was nobody to make me accountable.”

“And this was after you were placed in the custody of the Greenwoods?”

“Yeah. Well it happened at the same time actually. It was a lot to take at once for a twelve-year-old kid.”

“Transitions are always tough,” Sean said. “I've read a lot about kids in foster care. They often feel like it's pointless to please anyone, to form any bonds. Why bother if you're just going to get uprooted, right?”

“That's what I thought too, at first. I was a damn brat to them. They were different, though, Annie and Glen. They really wanted things to work out for me.” Jesse's eyes watered slightly.

“I remember you said you liked them. And they liked you.”

“First for everything.” Jesse laughed. It sounded forced.

“So now you finally had support at home, and some work that was meaningful to you, voluntary or not,” Sean said. “Things were starting to shape up.”

“I haven't told you the most important part. The tank where I did the graffiti...it was Willy's tank.”

“Willy?”

“The killer whale.”

***

 

“Is there anything else I can do for you today?” Lottie asked.

“No, no. Thank you,” said a woman's voice.

“Thank you for calling OrTel. Have a pleasant day!”

“Okay. Bye!” Click.

Lottie removed her headset and set it on top of the computer tower. She yawned and stretched, glancing at the clock. 2:56pm. Good enough for today, she thought. She had a mission after all.

She stood from the chair in her home office– a plastic card table in the den– and picked up her china mug, which held a teabag that had dried out hours before. Orange pekoe. She walked to the kitchen dressed in sweatpants and a large, shapeless t-shirt. While rinsing out her cup, she decided she wouldn't change after all. She probably wouldn't be the worst-dressed person at the library.

A short while later she pulled her dull green sedan into the nearly empty parking lot at the Hillsboro Public Library. Behind the front desk sat an old woman, tiny and bird-faced, reading a thick book.

“Good afternoon,” Lottie offered delicately.

The woman smiled wide. “Good afternoon, dear. Can I help you find something?” Her voice was warm and soft. A real librarian stereotype.

“I'm looking for- Well, I'm not sure exactly. I'm wondering if you have any old newspapers from Astoria. Early and mid 90s.”

“Oh, that sounds like some real research! We'll get you set up on a microfiche machine.”

The librarian showed Lottie how to use the device and brought her a catalogue of microfiches containing archived newspapers. She also set her up with a login to a searchable media database, though she admitted that might not be as useful for articles from before the 2000s.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Lottie thanked the librarian and smiled her away. She was grateful for the computer beside the microfiche reader and the database, because she didn't really know where to start. Using the database she quickly found the story she knew she would, but nothing that was new to her.

 

_jesse greenwood foster system_

_foster children abuse jesse greenwood_

_abuse astoria adolescent street boy_

_foster child abused astoria oregon_

 

Nothing but the story of when he freed Willy and a couple fluff pieces that followed. Lottie knew the story: there was a whale at a park where he worked as a teen, and the management was going to kill him. Jesse and his foster parents snuck in at night and busted him out. It was a cute story, and one that lit up Annie's and Glen's eyes when they told it. It wasn't quite the same for Jesse, though. He didn't talk about it much.

Lottie sighed. This was going to be tough. Something must have happened to him. If Jesse wouldn't tell her anything, or wouldn't tell Sean anything, she'd need to figure this out herself.

***

 

“So you trained Willy to do tricks? Like to do a show?” Sean asked, genuinely excited.

“Yeah I did. And he was an ornery thing, too. Never listened to nobody. Didn't like to be caged.”

“Like a certain little ruffian.” Sean smiled.

“Exactly.” Jesse replied. “We understood each other, I think that was what did it. There was a grownup trainer there, Rae. She did shows with seals and stuff, but she couldn't get Willy to do nothin' for her.”

“But you could. That's so cool!”

“Rae was happy for me, but I think she was a bit jealous too. I remember her saying, 'He really likes you, you know. I could never get him to jump. Gosh, look at the waves he makes!'”

“And how did that make you feel? Getting praise like that from a pro.” Sean asked.

“I dunno. Good.” Jesse fidgeted.

“Did you and Willy do a show for the public?”

“Uh...yeah. It wasn't good.”

“No?”

“No. The crowd was too loud. All banging on the glass in the underwater viewing area and shit. He got spooked. Wouldn't do any tricks.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“And you guys never got to try again?”

“Nope. That's the messed up part. The owner, Mr. Dial, figured Willy was worth more dead than alive after that. Wanted to kill him for the insurance.”

“Oh man,” Sean said quietly. “Um, did he?”

Jesse looked at Sean quizzically. “You serious? I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Me 'n Rae and Randolph, his keeper, busted him out one night. Put him in a trailer and drove him to the ocean. The Greenwoods found out what we were doing halfway through and helped us out. It was in the papers all over the state.”

“Oh. When was this? Ninety-four?”

“Ninety-three.” Jesse said, his gaze becoming distant.

“I still lived on the east coast back then.” Sean frowned. “I supposed you never saw him again after that.”

Jesse slowly shook his head. His eyes were glossy. Suddenly he began to breathe rapidly, erratically. Sean shot up from his chair and clasped Jesse's wrist.

“Jesse. Jesse!”

***

 

Lottie's heart skipped a beat. She quickly realized the person she saw peering into the library window was only her reflection. The simple, unadorned windows had become black mirrors at the border of the bright fluorescent lights and the night sky beyond.

She had been daydreaming; that was why her eyes had wandered. The hours she spent scouring the archives had yielded nothing new about Jesse, or nothing that seemed to fit. Lottie realized early into her search that they wouldn't have published a minor's name if anything had happened. This led her down a grim and twisted path, reading every article about an abused minor, an alleged child molestation, a traumatic event that had scarred a young boy. She clawed ever deeper into a sucking quagmire of misery. But she found nothing.

It was so unfair, she thought. These parents had been given such a gift, a chance at sublime lifelong happiness, and _this_ is what they did with it. She would have done so much better.

Her daydreams brought her back to winter, two years before, to her darkest depths. Negative. There was nothing. She sat in the examination room, her hands clenching the paper liner of the bed.

 

_Six days late. Positive._

_Seven days late. Positive. She'd better book an appointment with Dr. Halden._

_Two weeks late. Digital. Positive. She was so excited to tell Jesse._

 

And then she sat there, stunned. Negative. Before all else, Dr. Halden consoled her. Next, she spoke to Lottie about a few things she thought were amiss and ordered some tests. She might be able to learn things that would help to inform Lottie about her future prospects. Maybe she could give her something to blame.

A couple weeks passed– an eternity for Lottie– and they had their answer. Polycystic ovary syndrome. An incurable disease of the ovaries strongly associated with miscarriage and infertility, believed to be caused by obesity.

Lottie wept. Her loud cries embarrassed her. She felt her abdomen jiggle under her skin and wished she could crawl out of her body. She had always been a little big, and never very happy about it. Until she met Jesse, that is. Jesse loved big. In fact, in his less gallant, often drunken moments, he would complain that she was too skinny. Some of their fondest memories were times that he surprised her with pizza or ice cream; it happened more and more often as time went on.

And she loved him. She had vowed to have and to hold him as long as she should live. She would never have to impress another man anyway, not like that. What was the harm?

Lottie broke from her reverie and switched off the monitor. She picked her car keys up off the desk and carried the microfiche cards back to the librarian. She forced a weak smile for the sweet old lady and pushed open the door to the cold spring night.

 

_Twenty days late. Negative._

***

 

Jesse woke already groaning. The pain throbbing through his head was immense. He spotted a nearly empty whiskey bottle on the floor beside his bed, leaning precariously against the wall just outside his reach. He grimaced as he shifted forward and stretched for the bottle, then swigged what was left of it. He shook his head rapidly and uneasily turned himself onto his back.

Lottie lay there beside him, asleep on top of the covers in her sweats and giant t-shirt. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided not to wake her. Jesse lingered in bed for several minutes, waiting for the spinning sensation to subside. Finally, he stood up and walked into the bathroom.

He opened the medicine cabinet and slathered his brush with toothpaste. He brushed thoroughly– the inside of his mouth as much as his teeth– in an old ritual meant to mask the scent of liquor. He was just minty fresh, is all.

“Don't pussy out this time,” he chastised his reflection.

Sean had called the night before to tell him he had a cancellation the next morning, and that Jesse really ought to come in. They hadn't finished their session the day before. Sean had sounded insistent on the phone, almost worried. Jesse pushed the thought aside. Nobody ever worried about a piece of shit like him.

He got dressed in his favourite jeans, the acid wash, and a tight grey t-shirt. He rolled a half finished pack of Camels into the sleeve over his left shoulder. He left a message at the steel mill that he was sick. Man, if the guys found out he was booking off to see a shrink...

He had almost overslept; part of him wished he had. His pickup nearly made the turn toward the steel mill of its own accord, or maybe muscle memory, before it continued on to the community health centre.

The receptionist let Jesse into Sean's office.

“Dr. Truong stepped out for a minute, but he's coming right back.” She motioned to the two armchairs. “Please have a- Oh!” She laughed.

Sean appeared carrying a paper tray with two coffees.

“Jesse, you made it! Thanks, Martine.”

The receptionist smiled gently and pulled the door closed behind her.

“I'm glad you came in. You still take it black?”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks.” Jesse pulled a cup from the tray and sat rigidly on an armchair. Sean took the seat opposite him. Jesse avoided his gaze.

“Jesse,” Sean started, finally getting eye contact, “how about you tell me about the last time you saw Willy?”

***

  
Glittering drops cascaded all around Jesse as Willy soared over him, magnificent and untameable. The whale had just crested the breakwater at Dawsons Marina in an unbelievable jump. He landed with an enormous splash in the ocean beyond, out of the clutches of the cold-hearted Mr. Dial. He was free.

Elated, Jesse picked his way down the far side of the breakwater.

“Willy! Ha- _ha_! You did it! Hey Willy!” He jumped into the sea.

Willy seemed to know he was clear of danger. He doubled back toward Jesse, calling to him happily. The two swam toward each other. Willy rolled and twisted playfully under the water. Jesse laughed, now treading water and awaiting the gentle giant. Willy surfaced just as they met, nudging the boy's cheek with his nose.

“You can be with your family now!”

Willy dove again. He looped around once more and surfaced, this time bumping the back of Jesse's head, hard.

“Alright, alright! I'll miss you too! You have to get going, though.”

Willy clasped the waistband of Jesse's jeans with his teeth and dove again, yanking them downward. They caught around Jesse's ankles and made swimming difficult.

“Hey! Don't do that! It's not funny.”

The water was deep on the far side of the marina. Fully exposed, Jesse struggled to pull up his pants, but found he needed both hands to stay afloat. He started to panic. He kicked at the jeans frantically, trying to free his feet. They caught on his left sneaker for a brief moment, then finally floated off.

“Just great,” he muttered, snatching them with his left hand. Maybe he could get dressed again before the Greenwoods saw him. Willy had really done a number this time.

The killer whale looped into view, barrel rolling just beneath the surface. Jesse saw that his underside seemed to be swollen, maybe from the long ride in the trailer. Was that why he was acting up? Suddenly jetting to the surface, he slammed into Jesse at full speed.

“Willy, stop! Willy-”

Shoved toward the marina, Jesse lost track of Willy in the turbulent water. He looked down to see if the orca had gone under again, unaware that Willy had remained at the surface just behind him, leveling his bulging ventral region with the boy's small, supple body. In an instant, his hidden penis sprang from its slit and, just as quickly, sank into another. Jesse fainted from the pain almost immediately. Rent asunder.

The force of Willy's lust pushed the unconscious boy to the water's edge. The next thing Jesse knew, he was pinned to a jagged rock on the breakwater, an enormous unseen pressure threatening to crush him against it. Instinctively, he pushed backwards. Pain like a drill through his body. What was happening?

Fighting for his life, Jesse continued to push away from the rock. The pain peaked each time he did. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. After about a minute, he thought he heard some kind of delphine cackling behind him.

“Willy?”

He fainted again.

***

 

“Jesse? Jesse he made it! Willy's free!” it was Annie Greenwood, somewhere over the breakwater.

“Jesse? Where are you, buddy?” Glen.

They hadn't discovered him yet. Jesse was about to shout back to them when he thought better of it. His body burned from the inside out. He thought he might be bleeding. He was still half naked and, worse, bore an embarrassing stiffness. He took off his shoes, slunk out from the rocks, and floated a few feet into the water. They wouldn't notice it if he was swimming. He squeezed himself into the wet jeans.

“I'm over here!” He forgot that he was supposed to sound happy. Annie and Glen crested the rocks and spotted him.

“You weren't gonna follow him, were ya?” Glen asked, beaming.

“No...no I just wanted to swim with him one more time. Like we used to back in the park.”

Annie and Glen exchanged a warm look.

“Well come on in now,” Annie said, “We really should get out of here. This whole whale escape wasn't exactly on the level, legally.”

“I just want to swim for a bit more.”

“Jesse-” Annie started.

“Oh, what's the harm?” Glen asked, wading into the water. “It's not like the whalers are going to kill us. We're all soaked from getting Willy out of the trailer anyway.”

“You boys.”Annie tried her best to look disapproving. Failing at this, she jumped in. The three laughed and splashed at one another, Jesse's face sewn into a fabricated smile.

***

 

Sean exhaled, hard. The two men sat in silence. Jesse unrolled his sleeve and took out his cigarettes, offering a questioning glance to Sean. He nodded in response.

Jesse lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “I ain't no faggot.”

“What?”

“I ain't. Ask Lottie. I didn't know I was pushin' back.”

“Jesse, nobody would think-”

“'You pushed back! That means you're gay!' That's what they'd all say.”

“Jesse-”

“All into it and gettin' hard. Like some little-” Jesse choked up. Tears began to flow.

Sean liked to give his patients some reassuring touch when they started to cry, but this wasn't the time. He tried another angle.

“Did you feel betrayed? I mean, this happened right after you freed Willy.”

“Yeah.” Jesse took another drag. “He freed his willy– and took my innocence.”

***

 

Glowing with contentment, and a little bit from alcohol, Lottie walked home from the bus stop under a star-strung Oregon sky. She loved games night. How nice it was to catch up with the guys and girls from high school, to have a little wine and let loose. She enjoyed the taste of good cheese and of the control brought on by strategy. Power. Plans that came together.

Her only regret was her decision to wear heels, which proved a risky choice for the tipsy stumble home. Fortunately this wasn't her first rodeo and she arrived at Conner Street intact. Jesse's truck was parked crookedly in the driveway. Lottie's mood started to deflate. This wasn't a good sign. She probably wasn't the only one who was tipsy.

The lock rolled curiously smoothly and silently as she opened the front door. It hadn't been locked at all. The lights were on inside. Lottie flinched and remained in the doorway.

“Jesse? You there hon?”

A reply from deep in the house. Muffled. It was Jesse.

“Jesse is everything okay?” She gingerly stepped into the house and closed the door behind her. No response this time. She thought the first one had come from their bedroom. She flicked on the light in the hallway and, seeing nothing, continued forward.

A few steps in, she smelled something fetid. Like rotting meat with an ammonia finish. Her heart started pounding.

“Jesse?! Jesse where are you?”

“Whaaat?!” slurring, confused. From the bathroom, not the bedroom. Lottie opened the door.

The stench kicked her hard in the gut. She immediately retched, covering her mouth and nose with her left hand. The bathtub was stacked with dead fish in varying states of decay. A single fish head lay on the floor against the tub, trailing slimy pink guts along the white tile floor.

Jesse sat limply on the toilet seat. On the floor beneath his left hand was a battered steel flask. His right hand was buried down the front of his jeans, jerking rhythmically.

“Jesse, what the fuck?! What the fuck is this?!” Lottie screamed, hysterical.

Jesse's head slowly bobbed in her direction. With great effort, he looked at her with glossy, vacant eyes. His lips curled into a demented smile as he forced small spurts of air from his mouth. He was laughing, still tugging uselessly at the flaccid mess below.

Lottie slammed the door.

***

 

Jesse took a drag on a different cigarette, four later in the pack. “I didn't realize how much damage he had done until the next day. I was hurt bad. Needed stitches.”

“Did you go to the hospital?” Sean asked.

“Yeah. Yeah I went outside in the morning and came back crying to the Greenwoods. I told them I was climbing a fence and, uh, fell onto a post.”

“And nobody at the hospital thought anything was off about this?”

“They don't make rape kits for killer whales, Sean.”

“I just- Of course not.”

“Thing was as thick as my arm. Ain't no kiddy diddlers that endowed, you know? Story was legit enough.”

Sean scribbled into his notepad. “Do you remember anything else from the incident?”

“That's all I can tell you. Like I said I was drifting in and out, passed out a couple times.”

“And Willy moved you to the shore.”

“He must have. That wasn't the first time either, for that part anyway. One night, my first week at the park, I snuck in after hours to see Willy. I...I don't remember all of it because I hit my head, see? Randolph told me about it after. I got spooked by something, I guess it was Randolph coming outside, and I slipped. I knocked myself out and fell into Willy's tank.”

“Oh, man. You fell in the water unconscious?”

“Yup, out cold. I woulda drowned if not for Willy. He pushed me up to the surface. I woke up on the edge of the water.”

“That's pretty amazing,” Sean said.

“When Randolph was telling me what happened he said, 'Willy saved your butt.' He saved it for something, I guess.”

Sean stared at the floor. He didn't reply.

“He saved my life that night, you know. Maybe he deserved...some of that.”

“Jesse, no. You _never_ owe someone that. Besides, you saved his life too, right? You were square.”

“I...I dunno, Sean. I told him I loved him. I told him that a bunch, maybe he misunderstood.”

Sean ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesse, we're talking about an animal, here.”

Jesse's nostrils flared. “The fuck's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean he doesn't know those words. Love is too abstract-”

“You think he's just some dumb fuckin' animal? Like he doesn't deserve a chance if he doesn't dance and prance like the rest of 'em?!”

“I didn't say that, Jesse.”

“Suppose you woulda killed him for the insurance, too.”

“Jesse, I mean he only knows command words. He might understand love, but not the word 'love.'”

“He loved me!” Jesse was on the verge of tears.

“I'm sure he did, but you've got to stop trying to work out his motive for this. He's an animal. He did it because he had animal urges. That's all.”

Jesse exhaled. He was silent for a moment.

“I suppose you might be right about that.”

Sean nodded.

“I just wish I knew the whale song for 'no'.”

***

 

Jesse left his third session feeling drained. He needed a pick-me-up, and decided to do his favourite thing in the world. He drove from the health centre to Castella's Pizza. Sal was working. He liked Sal.

“I'm gonna need two meatball subs.” Jesse said.

“How do you want 'em?”

“Do mine all dressed. Plain for the other one. My lady ain't into the vegetables.”

He returned to his truck sandwiches in hand and sat behind the wheel, thinking. Yeah- Yeah, no, they had ice cream at home. He started the truck and made his way to the house.

Lottie was sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV. She called back to Jesse after he came through the door.

“Jesse? What did you wanna do for-”

“Already taken care of,” he replied. He set the plastic bag containing the plain sub on her lap.

“Oh!” she said, grinning. He had done it. His favourite thing.

Jesse unwrapped his own sub and they talked over the evening news. Jesse made fun of all the reporters and Lottie laughed, despite herself. She allowed herself to enjoy the moment. It felt like they were dating again.

His sandwich finished, Jesse disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a partly eaten tub of chocolate ice cream and two spoons. He smiled impishly as he set one spoon on the coffee table.

“Oh I don't know about that...” Lottie said, her tone betraying her excitement. Jesse dug out a chocolaty mound and moved the spoon toward Lottie's lips. She rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Really, Jesse?”

He started making airplane sounds with his mouth.

“That was lame when you did it six years ago and it's lame now!” She was right, but it was also cute. She dodged away from the spoon.

“You gotta open the hangar, baby.”

She shook her head.

“Do you really wanna be responsible for all them deaths?”

She laughed again. She let the spoon reach her mouth this time and enjoyed the ice cream, then deftly snatched the handle away. Jesse picked up the second spoon from the table and snuggled in close to Lottie, feeling warm inside and out.

They didn't talk about the fish.

***

 

Sean yawned as he sat at the desk in his study, looking child-like in his large New York Rangers jersey. A lowball glass sat on the left side of the desk, empty save for a small bump of melting ice. Sean's notes were splayed over the desk's surface. His eyes burned in the harsh lamplight.

A tall woman appeared at the door carrying two cups of coffee.

“Still at it, huh?” she remarked dryly.

“It's a rough one, Lydia.”

“Looks like. You don't usually get this torn up about it. How bad?” She set one cup on the desk next to the lowball glass and sipped from the other.

“Pretty bad,” Sean replied, eyes fixed on his notes.

“They can't be crazier than me, right?”

He looked up at her. “Definitely crazier.”

“So they hang the toilet paper underhanded too?”

“Okay, almost as crazy. In a way, we're making good progress. This person was resistant to treatment in the past. Things are coming out, at least.”

“But you opened Pandora's box?”

“Uh huh.”

Lydia laughed. “It's all part of the process, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it is. Sometimes you still don't really want to know, though. This person had a traumatic...event. It's led to some really strange erotic hangups.”

“Oooh, kinky.” She smirked.

“Nah, nothing that's going to give us any ideas. Weird stuff. Some feeder behaviours, too.”

“Oh, yeah, gross. Let's not do that.”

“Yeah,” Sean said. He sighed.

“Is she into it?” Lydia asked.

“Who?”

“The girl being fed. Or guy, I guess.”

“Look at you assuming.”

“I know. I'm awful.”

“Well, I don't know. It doesn't sound like she resists it, but I wonder about the power dynamic in their relationship.”

“You think he hits her?”

Sean was silent.

Lydia shook her head. “It's all so heavy. I couldn't do what you do.”

“Somebody's got to,” Sean said.

“I know, but he doesn't have to for hours on game night.”

“The game is over though.”

“And you allowed yourself such exquisite luxury to watch it. Are you done with your atonement now? You gotta stay sane to be of any use, you know.”

“But-”

“Physician, heal thyself.” Lydia grabbed Sean's hand and gently pulled him up from his chair. He grabbed his coffee cup at the last moment before she whisked him out of the room.

“Come on,” she said, “Adult Swim is starting.”

***

 

The clock on the microwave read 8:57pm. Lottie sat on the armchair in the living room with their Mastercard statement on her lap. The TV droned beneath her awareness. She always scrutinized these statements closely; it was one of her good habits, but this time she was stuck on one thing. She knew what the item was, but she didn't buy it. She never thought she'd find herself hoping she was a victim of fraud.

When Jesse finally came home fifteen minutes later, she braced herself for the worst. It was late. He was probably drunk.

The door opened. “Hello!” Jesse strode toward the kitchen. “Where is my 'Lotta Lady?” he said cheerfully.

Lottie hesitated for a second. “I'm in here!” she called.

“You musta already ate, huh?” Jesse asked, reaching her. “I'm just gonna defrost a pizza or something.”

“Didn't you eat with the guys?” Lottie was still looking at the statement.

“Huh? No, I didn't eat nothin'. Just had a beer and watched the- What you got there?”

“Did- Jesse...did you buy a gun?”

“A what?”

“Smith & Wesson. What else do they sell?”

Jesse stood behind the chair and looked over Lottie's shoulder.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I did.”

Lottie felt her gut drop. She was livid, but her anger was quickly chased away by fear.

“It's no big deal,” Jesse said, “most of the guys have 'em. It's just for the range anyway.”

“Is it in the house?”

“No, baby, it's at the range. Now that you know 'bout it, that's actually where I was tonight.”

“At the range? A shooting range?” Lottie's voice robotic.

“Yeah, baby. It's out by the freeway. I keep the gun there, this little six shooter thing. Nothing to worry about. I just thought with what's going on I could do a bit of self-therapy too.” He started to massage her shoulders.

“Does Sean know about this?”

“Naw, I didn't tell him. I thought maybe it's like a way for me to let off some steam. Like...like a blowhole!”

Lottie turned to look up at him.

“Fwoooooosh!” he said, his eyes distant.

***

 

It was barely after dawn, and Lottie was already two cups deep into the Earl Grey. She would have injected the stuff, if she could.

She had barely slept at all. The couple times she had drifted off into what could be generously called a nap, she panicked herself awake and was greeted with the sight of Jesse beside her. Broken, dangerous Jesse.

She finally had the will to run from him; now, when she was most utterly trapped. The irony was painful, but with renewed spirit she considered her options. Running wasn't one of them, she thought. Jesse was getting worse; his sessions with Sean were dredging up something evil. She had faith that the pain was necessary to his healing, she just feared he wasn't strong enough to endure it. And now he had a gun. Pulling the support of his spouse out from under him might tip him over the edge.

Whether he deserved it or not, supporting him at this moment was her best hope. But Jesse didn't tell her anything; she would have to join forces with Sean. And so she sat watching the birth of the morning and waiting for the clinic to open. She heard Jesse stirring and talking nonsense in his sleep.

The clinic opened at 8:00am. Lottie got there at 8:03.

“Hi. Is Sean- uh, Dr. Truong available?” she asked at reception.

“He's with a patient. Do you want to leave a message for him, or-”

“No...no I need to speak with him. But I can wait.”

“No problem. Your name?”

“Lottie Greenwood.”

Lottie heard the receptionist's fingers rattle quickly on her keyboard.

“I've just sent him a message to tell him you're here,” she said. “Just have a seat and he'll pop out when he can, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.” Lottie couldn't return her smile.

Twenty minutes later, a short man with a vaguely familiar face appeared at the entrance to the hallway.

“Lottie?”

“Hi Sean. Long time no see!” her voice cracked.

Sean's heart sank. He half expected this.

“How about you come with me?” he said.

Lottie followed him down the hallway, past his office, into an empty examination room.

“I've still got somebody in my office. I saw the message and thought it might be urgent,” Sean said. He looked at Lottie nervously.

“So you know how bad he's gotten,” she replied.

“I think only half of it. He's still pretty reticent; he doesn't tell me about what he's doing now, only what happened to him.”

Lottie's eyes lit up. “You know what happened to him?”

Sean stopped himself. “You...you don't?”

Lottie shook her head. She was beginning to sob.

“Jesus. Lottie, I'm sorry, but if he didn't tell you, I can't either.”

“Sean, _please_. I need to know. It's going to take both of us to fix him.”

“Lottie-”

“You have to tell me before I end up in a ditch somewhere!”

“It's really important that I don't break the trust he has with-”

“He bought a fucking gun, Sean! What kind of progress is that?!” she screamed.

Sean winced.

“I'm- I'm sorry, Sean. It's just- I need to know.”

“Lottie, I _can't-_ ”

“Don't you care what he does to me?!”

“You need to run away, Lottie. There's support for women like you. The police can help you.”

“He'll _kill_ me, Sean. One way or another. He would never let me go.”

Sean didn't reply. Lottie let the silence hang.

When Sean spoke again, his words were slow and deliberate. “I know how vengeful he is, Lottie. I know. It's that same spite that makes me certain he would ruin me if I broke medical confidentiality.”

“Sean-”

“Lottie, listen.” He gripped her shoulders. “I can't tell you what happened to make Jesse this way. But Lottie, please, believe me: it's a whale of a tale.”

He nodded sternly, once, and briskly walked out of the room.

***

 

Lottie's green sedan spun slow laps around the neighbourhood, mirroring the muted chaos in her mind.

“That _fucking_ whale,” she said aloud, expressing the only thought that had fully crystallized. She worked her way through a coffee shop drivethru and eventually found herself at the library.

It was someone different at the front desk this time, and she was glad for it. She quickly walked deeper into the library and found the computer with the database. Lethargically she searched the database for stories about Willy, for anything she might have missed.

All the same fluff, nothing out of place. It was futile. She was Captain Ahab sipping absently on coffee with cream. Part of her knew this wasn't going to work. She'd have to steel herself and go straight to the source. Tonight.

 

Jesse's eyes flooded with tears as he fired round after round into the black and white target. He heard four hollow clicks after the final shot and realized he was still squeezing the trigger. The range was empty aside from him. He was alone with his grief– and his memories.

Shaking, he set the revolver on the counter in front of him. He removed his ear protection and buried his face in his hands.

 

 

Lottie did all she could to hide her nervousness. She needed to make Jesse feel at ease. This needed to be a gentle conversation, but it was so damn important.

They had just finished a dinner of fried chicken– one of Jesse's favourites– and had ambled into the living room. He wasn't drinking. That was good. They sat together on the couch.

“Hey, hon? Why don't you tell me about your killer whale friend? From when you were a kid,” Lottie asked. Her heart raced.

Jesse hesitated. “Ain't nothing else to say. You know all about it,” he replied, flatly.

“But what was he like? How did you two get along? You never talk about it.”

“Lottie, babe, I don't- Can't we talk about something else?”

“I just- Okay.” She felt ashamed. She was blowing it.

Jesse flicked on the TV with the remote control. Lottie admonished herself as the evening news flashed onto the screen. She had to press on.

“Did anything...bad happen while you worked at that park?”

Jesse stiffened. “I told you all about it babe just fuckin'...I'm sorry. Just I've told this enough times already.”

“What did that whale do to you?”

Jesse set down the remote. He turned and looked Lottie dead in the eyes.

“'That whale'? His name is Willy. And Willy fucked me, Lottie. He fucked my asshole.”

Lottie gasped. Her mind nearly buckled under the weight of this revelation. So many questions tumbled into her head at once, along with as many answers and connections.

“He...what?” was all she could muster.

“That's right,” Jesse said, his voice unusually high-pitched. Lottie could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. His face contorted and his breath took on the unmistakable pattern of weeping.

“Oh, Jesse!” Lottie cried, embracing him. They spent several minutes sobbing together, a single pulsing mass of anguish.

“How did you know?” Jesse asked. He had stopped crying.

Lottie didn't reply.

“You been talking to Sean? He tell you?” Jesse threw Lottie's arms off him and stood up.

“Jesse, no-”

“So you just fuckin' _guessed_ that a whale raped me.”

“He didn't-”

“Suppose he told you I fuckin' loved it, huh? Like a little faggot.”

“What? Jesse, Willy-”

He slapped her.

“I ain't no fuckin' faggot. You should know that good as anyone.”

This again.

“How 'bout we go into the bedroom and I'll show you what a faggot I am,” Jesse said. He grabbed Lottie by the hair.

She punched him square in the groin. Right on target. He let out an anguished grunt and doubled over. She didn't hesitate. She punched him in the face. The tails of his mullet bounced from the impact.

Jesse released Lottie's hair and stumbled backwards into the coffee table. He stared in disbelief at the furious woman on the couch.

Lottie stared back. Eyes incendiary. Teeth gritted.

“Well shit,” Jesse said, “Shiiiit. You fucked up. You really fucked up.”

Nothing from Lottie.

Their silent standoff ended when Jesse stumbled out the front door. Lottie heard his truck fire up and peel away recklessly into the night.

She felt fear again. Not fear of Jesse, but fear for where he had gone. She rushed to the kitchen and pulled open the junk drawer. She rifled through a yellowed notepad until she found the phone number she needed. With her heart in the her throat, Lottie dialed.

Lottie's anxiety increased with each ring. Six. Seven. After the eighth, she heard Lydia's voice.

“Hey, sorry to disappoint you all, but I managed to drag Sean away for a weekend. We're going to Portland! Be back Tuesday, if he can stand it. Leave a message and we'll get back to you.”

Lottie finally exhaled as she hung up the phone. She considered calling the police, but feared that her boxing debut would get her in trouble. After settling down, she convinced herself that Jesse was off getting hammered. The worst he could do was pass out somewhere and then come crawling home the next morning with his apologies and his promises about how it would be different from now on. There was nothing to do but wait.

 

He came back with the gun.

Lottie heard the door slam shut. She stood from the couch and turned around, then froze in place. Staring back at her from the doorway was Jesse, the revolver in one hand, a white plastic bucket in the other. It was burdened with something dark-coloured, nearly full. He was panting. Swaying.

“As I was saying,” he slurred, “I ain't no faggot. And I guess I gotta prove it to you again.”

Lottie stood there, trembling.

“Get in the fuckin' bedroom,” he spat. “Now!”

Lightheaded, Lottie willed herself to move. She walked unsteadily into the bedroom. Jesse followed with the gun trained on her.

Jesse set the bucket down in the hallway outside the bedroom.

“Put it on,” he said, motioning to the closet.

Lottie quickly fumbled through the hangers. Did he mean the zebra print or the other one? Her breath was shuddering. Finally she found the black and white dress– the one with the whorls– and tentatively held it up. He nodded.

Mechanically, Lottie undressed. She couldn't look at Jesse. He remained still in the doorway as she put on the dress, then slowly entered the room. He kept his eyes on Lottie as he walked backwards toward the nightstand. He reached behind himself with his left hand and batted at the CD player. After much struggle, he managed to turn on the stereo. Whale song filled the room.

Lottie started sobbing. Jesse only stared. After many uncomfortable seconds, Jesse yelled at her again.

“You do it!”

“Wh...what?”

“Do it!” he screamed. He flung his left arm backwards, pointing to the stereo.

Lottie understood. She opened her mouth to obey, but choked on a sob.

“I can't fuckin' hear you!” he jeered, almost musically.

“Whoooo-aroooo-hoo,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah... _yeah_ ,” Jesse said, revolver still raised. His jeans were getting tight. He ran into to the hallway and retrieved the white bucket. He dropped it at the foot of the bed and threw off its lid. In one quick motion, he dumped its contents all over the bed. The white comforter was coated with thick red chum; dead sardines slid into the severed heads of larger fish as the thick slurry dripped to the floor.

He pointed the gun at Lottie again.

“Eat it,” he said.

Lottie shook her head slowly, wordlessly.

“You'd better fuckin' eat it, bitch!” he screamed. He pointed the gun at her head and cocked the hammer. Unnecessary on a double-action, but terrifying.

Lottie stopped trembling. Her breath steadied.

“No.”

“How 'bout I give you a fuckin' blowhole, then?!” he lunged toward her.

Lottie closed her eyes.

“Fuck!” Jesse crashed to the floor, his boots slick with chum.

Lottie's eyes snapped open. Jesse was laid out on his back and empty-handed. She threw herself down onto him.

Jesse groaned. “You fat bitch! Get the fuck off me!”

Lottie wasn't listening. She was looking for the gun. She spotted it on the floor a couple feet in front of her, toward the wall opposite the doorway. She sprang forward, crawling on her elbows through a thin film of fish slurry. She snatched the revolver from the floor and spun around to face Jesse, her back propped against the wall.

He had staggered to his feet. The drunken haze had dulled his senses. It took several seconds for him to realize Lottie had the gun pointed at him.

“Babe, come on. What the fuck. Why you gotta be so dramatic?”

Lottie didn't respond. She held the gun steadily. A tendril of red slime dripped from her right arm.

Jesse took a step toward her. “You're not gonna-”

She fired. The bullet tore a chunk out of Jesse's lower abdomen. He collapsed face-first to the floor, writhing, his guts mixing with those of the fish.

Lottie's ears were ringing. Jesse crawled toward her, saying something she couldn't hear. Pleading, maybe. Or more threats. She didn't care.

He heaved himself forward until he could clasp her leg with a bloodied hand. His eyes were frenzied, animal. She pressed the barrel of the revolver into his face. It bent his nose sideways at the tip. He was still talking.

Lottie squeezed the trigger again. She flinched as bits of skull and brain matter splattered the walls, the ceiling, her face, her dress. After a long silence, she pushed the corpse off her legs and carefully got to her feet. Strangely numb, she caught a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror. She was smeared in red carnage, still warm where it was Jesse's blood. What's black and white and red all over? She smirked.

On autopilot, she changed out of the bloodied dress and sat once again in the living room. She stared out the window at Conner Street, thinking about nothing in particular. Pale young leaves were peeking out from the branches near the streetlight two doors down. The dark scene was illuminated minutes later by flashing red and blue. Sirens. The neighbours had heard.

Lottie shook her head.

“Of course,” she said. “Just two fucking gunshots and _now_ it's their business.”

She listened to the rise and fall of the approaching sirens. Like whale song, she thought. The haunting call of those two beasts who had brought her to this: the abusive drunken monster and the enormous cetacean rapist.

Lottie sat and pondered what would come next. On the horizon were years of strife. Prison, certainly, and she didn't know for how long. But there would be no more whale songs. She was free.

 


End file.
